Crazy For You
by SweetInnocence89
Summary: Harry has been having nightmares again when he's back for the short visit to Privet Drive he promised Dumbledore before he goes in search of Horcruxes. In his dreams,Hermione can't be saved. Can Harry tell Hermione how he feels before his dreams become to
1. Nightmares on Privet Drive

Crazy for You

Chapter 1: Nightmares on Privet Drive

Harry Potter was back at the Dursley's again like he promised he would. He really did not want to go back but he had to, for Dumbledore at least. He owed him that much.

The summer had started like it normally did at the Dursley's. Harry was ignored and the Dursley's stayed as far away from him as possible. Since the Dursley's acted like he was diseased anyway (Harry wouldn't have been the least surprised if they wore rubber gloves any time they were in the same room as him), Harry was free to pretty much do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to.

Harry hated being around the Dursley's; they looked at him differently. They knew about Dumbledore, they had heard Harry screaming in his sleep ever since he came back from Hogwarts. Harry knew they did. They often looked down when they saw him, even Uncle Vernon and Dudley did (and they liked confrontation). They just shook their heads and whispered about him, loudly too. One thing about the Dursley's, they were not quiet people.

Harry heard them. "What's wrong with _him?" _they asked, glancing over their shoulders at Harry, who stood in the doorway where he was just visible. "He's acting stranger than normal, not that I thought _his lot_ could get any stranger," Uncle Vernon remarked.

"I heard him screaming in his sleep, "Dum…Dummydore" I think was the name he was screaming," Dudley replied scratching his head, trying to obviously remember the correct name.

"Petunia, I think he means the weirdo that visited us last year, that bloke who said we didn't know how to treat people and was wearing those damn robes and cap. I wonder what happened? Maybe he died," Vernon said coolly as if Dumbledore dying was the most natural think in the world.

"Looked like he was about to anyway," Dudley mumbled between bites of oatmeal. This made Harry furious. Them talking about Dumbledore like that. They did not know him. What right did they have? Did they see something about Dumbledore that Harry did not? They often looked these days as if they were in a football huddle planning the best way to make minimal contact with Harry. Unfortunately, one of their tactics were talking about him as if he was not in the room when he was. They did not know the torture Harry was going through each night.

Many nights Harry would wake up to the sound of his own voice screaming in his dreams. These dreams were more nightmares though.

In the nightmares, Harry would relive the night Dumbledore died but in horrific ways. Everything was worse. When Harry saw Dumbledore fall off the tower, he would look at Snape, but in the nightmare, instead of seeing Snape's face leering with pride, he would see Voldemort's face smiling and laughing a high cold laugh, a laugh Harry had heard many times before, but not as loud or as cruel as it was in his nightmares.

Also someone else was killed. Someone Harry couldn't imagine not having in his life. This someone was Hermione.

In the nightmare, after murdering Dumbledore, Snape would turn on Hermione and say the vilest words anyone could say to Hermione, Snape would say these words because he knew they hurt Hermione the most and relished in other's pain. He would say cruelly, " Now you'll get what you deserve, you filthy Mudblood. It's been coming since the moment you stepped foot into my class and now you'll pay for every answer you gave, you stupid girl!" And with a casual flick of his wand, Snape gave Hermione a murderous smile, a smile that resulted with his wand and the omittance of a blinding flash of emerald green light.

Harry heard Hermione screaming his name. Harry would try to save Hermione, doing anything to stop her pain, using any spell he knew but it was not any good.

As she lay dead, he was kneeling over her, praying she wasn't dead, blaming himself for not saving her if she was, his heart racing, much like it did in the Room of Requirement when Hermione was hit by a Death Eater's spell. Harry would stoke her face, looking into her closed eyes, expecting to see her brown eyes flutter open at the touch of his hand on her face. But she just lay there, motionless.

The dream would end with him punching the ground and laying his head on Hermione's body, still trying to wake her up.

This part of his nightmare came after the part with Dumbledore, which would leave his scar burning. This part, however, would leave Harry with his heart racing and in a cold sweat. He felt the sudden urge to call or write Hermione and make sure she was okay and alive; Harry knew the sound of her voice would relieve him greatly.

But Harry didn't want Hermione to worry about him right now and be scared for him. He just wanted to see her and have her tell him everything would be okay.

These nightmares were worse than the ones Harry had of Cedric's death two years before. These nightmares seemed real; it was as if they were, but Harry knew they weren't because if they were Harry would wake up on top of the tower with Hermione, dead next to him, not in his room on Privet Drive where nightmares weren't reality but reality was a nightmare.


	2. Secrets and Lies

Chapter 2: Escape

Harry had been at the Dursleys for a week. He could not stand it there much longer and figured he might as well get what he has to do over and done with. He decided to approach the Dursley's when the time was right. The time was right, right after dinner, where the Dursleys were fed and watered, well Uncle Vernon would be anyway.

The Dursleys were gathered in the living room watching whatever Uncle Vernon wanted to watch on the telly- tonight that was a boxing match. Harry lingered on the stairs, deciding how best to get the Dursleys attention, after so much silence between. The tension between the Dursleys and Harry was like a volcano; all that was needed was an eruption that might just happen tonight.

Harry cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and entered the living room. Uncle Vernon took his eyes off the telly long enough to glare at Harry and then switched his attention back to the match.

"What do you want?" growled Uncle Vernon not even looking at Harry.

"I have some questions I need to ask you and Aunt Petunia," Harry replied coolly.

"Can't it wait?" said Uncle Vernon impatiently, "I'm busy watching the match. It figures you would choose now to speak after not saying a word all week. I was actually getting used to the quiet." He was now yelling, "Come on, McCoy, left hook, left hook!" to no one in particular besides the telly.

"Actually, it can't," Harry replied, anger slowly bubbling inside him. He grabbed the remote and turned off the telly. He was standing in front of the telly, breathing deeply.

Uncle Vernon was slowly turning purple. He was watching Harry with narrowed eyes and expected him to pull out his wand, the tip just visible in his pocket.

"Petunia! Get in here, the _boy _needs you!" Uncle Vernon hollered while giving Harry a smirk. Aunt Petunia came into the living room, her apron tied around her waist; she was cleaning the kitchen, no doubt to make it more immaculate than it already was.

She walked over to where Uncle Vernon was and stood behind his recliner, her hands resting on the back of it.

"Well go on, and make it quick. I know I'll be needing a brandy when we're through" said Uncle Vernon brusquely, has hands on his lap.

Harry controlled his temper at this remark.

"I want to know about my parents," Harry replied.

"Shouldn't you have asked this question when you were younger?" Uncle Vernon asked, sarcasm in his voice, "Not that we don't _love_ talking about them".

"Isn't that right, Petunia?" he turned to his wife and asked. Aunt Petunia just stood there, contemplating what her husband just asked and said nothing.

"Oh I did and what was the response you gave me? Oh yeah, they died in a car crash, which was a lie! You knew Voldemort killed them! You know more than you let on, especially you, Aunt Petunia. You knew about dementors and other stuff in the Wizarding World. What do you know, you have to tell me, before I leave!" Harry was right in front of her now, leaning over Uncle Vernon.

"What do you bloody think I know, Harry? Where are you going? You can't leave here until your 17, which you-" she yelled.

"Are. I just turned. I knew you would never tell me anything! You're just like him!" he spat at Uncle Vernon. "Afraid of everyone knowing what I am, that I'm a wizard and you know what? I have had enough, of you, of Privet Drive, of everyone! It is not like the two of you ever gave a crap about me anyway. I'm leaving, and don't try to contact me either, because if you do you'll get what you deserve and I want be here to save your fat asses like I did with Dudley and the dementors."

The Dursleys stood there shocked. Uncle Vernon was livid and he raised his hand about to slap Harry. Aunt Petunia just stood there silent, her eyes downcast. She would always stand by her man and his idiotic ways. Harry knew she would never fess up to being a Squib.

Uncle Vernon's hand moved in a motion to strike Harry and kick him in the ass, a head start for him to no longer burden the Dursleys. Harry ran out of the room before he had the chance, packed all his belongings, throwing them angrily into his suitcase and making sure there was no evidence that Harry Potter ever had the pleasure of having Dudley's second bedroom.

He did not care about Aunt Petunia's love protecting him like his mother's; it did not mean anything. Dumbledore was just telling him that so he would not feel so bad about being treated like dirt for seventeen years. And protect Harry from what? From himself, from controlling his magic, from Voldemort?

With those thoughts, Harry just flew out of the Dursleys house on his broom.He did not know where he was going; he just felt the cool air in his face. He heard footsteps running up the stairs before he left, he would have loved to see the look on the Dursleys faces. The window thrown open, Harry gone for good and cold air blowing the curtains was the scene they would be left with.They would probably jump for joy or have a heart attack, whichever suited their fancy. All Harry knew he was free and had the sky and his feet, he could only think of one place to go where he felt loved, The Weasleys.


End file.
